


Suddenly the World Seems Such a Perfect Place

by synchronicities



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Ice Skating, Social Media, not rpf but inspired by virtue/moir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 08:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13783335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synchronicities/pseuds/synchronicities
Summary: Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin are ice dancing’s sweethearts in every sense of the word except one – they really aren’t dating.Really.





	Suddenly the World Seems Such a Perfect Place

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the online furor every four years about Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir not actually being together, [ That Yuzuru Hanyu & Javier Fernandez Hug](https://twitter.com/hueber_sydney/status/964927563666808832), and bizarrely, Shoma Uno saying he’s spending his Olympics playing video games. 
> 
> Also despite following Olympic figure skating and my investment in mens’ and womens’ singles, I have 0 idea how they score ice dance, just putting this out there.
> 
> (This isn’t thinly disguised RPF, I PROMISE, but I imagined their FD to be something like V/M’s “[Pilgrims on a Long Journey/Latch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KXQNnROT_90)” program)

**Figure Skating News** @fsnews | 5m

BREAKING Griffin/Blake take the #IceDance #GOLD at #PyeongChang2018 with a combined score of 201.85! Congratulations @ClarkGriff @BellBlake @TeamUSA!

 

 **Charlotte Richards #Bellarke** @griffblakes | 5m

OHHH MY GOD THE G/B FREE DANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 DHDHFJHDFJH GET MARRIED

* * *

Clarke doesn’t remember the moments after their free dance scores are announced. Raven shows her the video later and she bemoans her gaping mouth and wide eyes, but all she _remembers_ are Bellamy’s lips on her cheek, his arms around her body, and the feeling of being lifted up, up, up.

She comes back to reality when her feet touch the ground, and that’s when the excitement and exhilaration hits her. Clarke suddenly can’t stop grinning. She blinks up at Bellamy’s flushed, happy face, pale in the arena’s cold, and his big, doofy smile, and can’t fight the urge to cup his face in her hands. He understands, of course, and he lowers his own head so that their foreheads are touching. For a brief moment it’s like they’re on the ice again, just the two of them, and everything else has melted away.

“We did it,” he murmurs, so soft she’s sure only she can hear. “Together.”

And then they’re swept away by their coaches – Callie and Marcus, both hugging her tightly, then the media, the press clamoring for photos of them – so when it’s time to get back on the ice for the podium she finds herself reaching for Bellamy’s hand, and exhales knowing that it’s right there to meet hers.

The podium is a blur. Clarke is the one to invite bronze medalists Luna and Derrick, as well as silver medalists Roan and Ontari, to share the first place spot with them for pictures, and while Ontari only gives her an insincere smile, Roan embraces her afterwards.

“We’ll get you back at Worlds,” he says, smirking.

“Looking forward to it,” Clarke laughs.

She goes to hug Luna and Derrick next – they’re retiring, the bronze Olympic medal capping off a long and storied career – and then it’s back to circling the ice for press, holding up the American flag with one hand, the other around Bellamy’s body.

It only fully hits her when they step off the ice.

“Oh, god,” she gasps, leaning against the rail and laughing towards the ceiling. “Oh my god, we won. We have _Olympic gold medals._ ”

He’s staring at her with that soft smile she adores, and something blooms in her chest that she tamps down. “It’s just sinking in now, huh?”

“I don’t think it’s going to sink in fully until _Worlds_ ,” Clarke laughs, taking both his hands in his. “Oh, god. Bell, a gold medal.”

“Yes, I heard it the first twenty times,” he chuckles, removing his hands from hers to wrap around her body. She leans into the hug, her hands coming up to meet at his back. “Congratulations, C.”

“Hey,” she says, her head against his chest, imagining she can hear his heartbeat through the thick coat. “You know I couldn’t have done it without you.”

* * *

  **John** @JohnMbege | 10m

I don’t even WATCH figure skating but Griffin/Blake are something else! That chemistry on the ice is unreal!

 

 **Atom Adams** @SmallerThanAMolecule | 1m

@JohnMbege Agreed, bro. They’re totally gonna bang it out right…..

* * *

 “A gold medal at your Olympic debut,” the correspondent is saying at the press conference. Clarke vaguely recognizes her from the Grand Prix Final – her name might be Shay. “How does that feel?”

She glances at Bellamy, and he smirks, clearing his throat. “Absolutely unbelievable,” he replies into the mic. “Clarke and I – we didn’t make the team in Sochi, and that motivated us to become better. We started really finetuning what worked and taking out the things that didn’t work. We’ve had a good run in the years after that, and I think this is just the, the natural progression, you know?”

“It feels really earned,” she adds, flashing Shay another smile. “Like the culmination of a long process. And of course, we wouldn’t be here without all the people who supported us. Our coaches, Marcus and Callie, who’ve been so tough and accommodating at the same time. Our Olympic teammates, whom we practically grew with. Our fans…” There’s cheering from the crowd here, and she turns to Bellamy, who grins back.

“Clarke and Bellamy,” says another reporter, one Clarke doesn’t know. “You come from very different skating backgrounds – how did that come into play on your Olympic journey?”

Bellamy tilts his head at her, and she nods.

“Well, funny story, actually. I was born into a skating family,” Clarke starts. “My dad won speed skating bronze in ’92, and, uh, you might’ve heard of my mom–”

“What, Abby Griffin, two-time silver medalist, first woman to land a triple salchow at the Olympics? Nope,” Bellamy jokes. The crowd chuckles. Even Ontari smirks.

Clarke tries to glare at him, but she’s pretty sure it comes off as a grin. “Yeah, that Abby Griffin. So yeah, I’ve been skating since I could walk.”

“My mother worked at the rink where she practiced,” Bellamy continues. “We were once paired up, totally randomly, and – well, we totally hated each other at first because I thought she was a snooty princess–”

“–And I thought he was some rude older guy,” Clarke finishes, sticking her tongue out at him. “Still is. But I’m grateful that we’re so different, because it gives us so many perspectives to work with in our routines, and we continuously challenge each other.”

“Yeah,” says Bellamy, flashing her a rakish grin. “I know that I couldn’t have gotten here without her. The two of us have been skating together for – ten years now? – but despite all our differences, Clarke and I click instinctively. You could say she keeps me centered.”

The reporter thanks him for the answer and moves on to asking Luna and Derrick what’s next for them after retiring, and under the table, Clarke reaches for Bellamy’s hand again. He takes it without missing a beat, still facing forward all the while.

* * *

  **Fox P.** @foxypoxy | 15m

“I COULDN’T HAVE GOTTEN HERE WITHOUT HER. CLARKE AND I CLICK INSTINCTIVELY. SHE KEEPS ME CENTERED” AHHHHH I LOVE MY ICE DANCING MOM AND DAD #BELLARKE #GRIFFINBLAKE

**BREE.** @breedwards | 12m

@foxypoxy ok its TOTALLY a throwback to gpf last yr, where clarke was like, no way I couldve done it without bell! theyre soooo married it hurts to think abt

 

 **roma bragg #TeamUSA** @romaaaa | 3m

@foxypoxy @breedwards guys have you seen these gifs they were totally holdin hands under the table………….im DEAD

* * *

 “Oh, god, when does it _stop_?” Clarke hands the phone back to Raven and flops back on the bed.

Raven cackles. “I’m editing your Wikipedia page as we speak,” she announces. “With partner and _future husband_ Bellamy Blake, Griffin is the 2018 gold medalist, the 2017-2018 Grand Prix Final champion, a two-time Four Continents champion…”

Clarke flushes. “Raven, _stop_!”

“It’s not my fault you’re competing in a highly visible, easy to watch sport,” Raven shrugs, putting the laptop down. “Look at snowboarding. No one watches that.”

“Says the gold medalist,” Clarke laughs, throwing a pillow at her which Raven gracefully catches.

“Yeah, I’m a marvel.” Raven flips her hair over her shoulder. “Really though, social media’s going wild about the two of you.”

Clarke has to smile. “That’s really heteronormative, isn’t it? Just let us platonic-skate in peace, internet.”

Her friend snorts. “Yeah, don’t bet on it. Half the ‘net wants you to have sex, the other wants you to remain bastions of _the purity of the sport_.”

Clark actually laughs at that. “ _Purity_? They should be lucky no one’s airing the sordid off-ice gossip.”

Raven crosses her legs on the bed and starts typing some more. “You should read the conspiracy theories about you guys online. My favorite is the one that says you’re both actually gay but really good at pretending to be into each other, and the rumors are a double-bearding thing to keep people from forcibly outing you _and_ promote audience investment in your skating.”

“That’s not bad,” Clarke notes, crossing her arms. “Imagine the media frenzy when we both come out as bi. That’ll screw them over for sure.”

“Yeah.” Raven laughs. “Griffin/Blake, America’s sweethearts – how can they be _real bisexuals_ when they’re so obviously into each other?”

“ _Raven_.” Clarke raises an eyebrow. “He’s not–”

 “Oh, don’t break my heart.” Raven makes a shooing gesture. “Don’t you have to head on down to his room for that reviewing thing? Get outta here.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Clarke stands, dusting off her sweatpants and moving towards Raven’s door. “Don’t put shitposts on my Wikipedia page, please. Or Bell’s.”

“Don’t count on it,” Raven calls as the door closes.

Bellamy’s room is just down the hall from Raven’s, across Miller’s, who plays biathlon. She knocks on the door and he opens it quickly, his face lighting up at the sight of her. He’s in a navy blue sweater and gray sweatpants, which she barely registers before his arms are around her again. “Hey, Clarke.”

She smiles into his shoulder before she can stop herself. “Hey, Bell. I brought chips.”

“You spoil me,” he says flippantly, releasing the hug but keeping his arm around her wrist. Reflexively, her fingers move to curl around his as he leads her to the couch, and they settle down in front of the TV easily, Bellamy’s arm around the back of the couch, Clarke curled into his side.

“Ready?” he murmurs, very softly.

The replaying ritual is something from the very earliest days of their partnership, from their first local competition – they had fallen out of sync halfway through the short and failed to make the free as a result, and Abby Griffin had sat them both down and forced them to watch the replay to figure out where they had gone wrong. She still sees it – an overrotated spin here, a stumble there, mutual resentment boiling over and ruining the performance, the frowning and sniping they had done afterwards in the car ride home.

Now, they have a much better track record, but the replays are still there – commentary on what they did right, what they did wrong, and what they could improve.

Clarke nods, pressing her forehead into his shoulder, and Bellamy hits the play button.

It’s always a different feeling, watching videos of them on ice. Clarke always has trouble seeing herself as the woman moving in the video, twisting and twirling around the ice – she and Bellamy have always seen it like acting, slipping into characters as soon as their laces are tied, and it works for her – she wears her heart on her sleeve for those seven minutes, pours her love and affection into the choreography and the soft music, and everyone else is hopefully none the wiser.

Most of the time.

Video Clarke and Bellamy ache for each other – it’s palpable in their looks, their movements, in the way that they share each other’s space and are drawn towards each other when they’re apart. For a brief moment Clarke is hyperaware of all the places their bodies are currently touching, but Bellamy has been quiet so far, assessing and taking it all in.

 _Every skate has to tell a story_ , Callie would say, winking at them. It’s all part of the show. That’s all it should be.

“Ah, that one was close,” she says, pointing out the spin at the halfway mark. He’d been doing an upright, she’d been doing a Beillmann, and was close to underrotating.

“Good posture, though,” Bell says, squeezing her arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s the _Olympics_.” He’s quiet for a bit. “We’ve got nice side spins here.”

They do. It’s frequently noted as one of their best elements, their complete synchronization during side spins and twizzles, and she sees it on the video screen, their legs cocked at exactly the same angle, their arms moving in perfect timing as Bellamy twirls around and catches her hand in his and they circle around and around the rink. It’s almost unreal, watching their coordination, how Bellamy instantly responds to every single one of her movements with no hesitation, and knowing that it’s a result of years and years of sweat and tears, of watching each other through all their programs and trainings and dancing and...

“And here,” he says, pitching his voice lower and more dramatic as the music swells, “The big lift.”

Video Clarke twists around Bellamy’s shoulders before standing on his thighs and leaning back, her arms extended as he cruises around the ice, his hands not even touching her legs. In the background, the crowd roars.

It’s exhilarating to watch.

“Just as we practiced,” she notes. “Hope I didn’t scar your legs for life,” she teases, her fingers lightly touching his sweatpants.

“You wish,” Bellamy says, his larger hand covering hers on his thigh. Clarke can’t help but smile at him, and he beams back at her. “These legs are here to stay.”

On the video the two of them finish their last spin and stand, breathless, as applause rings throughout the arena. Video Bellamy pulls Video Clarke into a bonecrushing hug and she buries her face in his shoulder. Clarke flushes. She can already see the gifsets.

Instead, she keeps her voice light. “Decent,” she says. “Not bad for a couple of Olympic debutantes.”

“Oh, just a gold medal. Not bad at all.” Bellamy chuckles, and pressed into his chest Clarke can feel it rumble through his body. “We did really well though, you know. Not a season’s best, but it’s up there.”

“I know. Thank you.” Despite herself, she squirms and burrows a bit closer, and he leans forward to accommodate her. “We’ve come a long way from that first season, huh?”

His grip around her shoulder tightens. “Yeah, we have.”

“You doing anything until the medal ceremony?” she asks, still staring at the TV. By now they’re awaiting the scores, and she shuts her eyes. She’ll preserve the memory of that hug for a bit longer.

Bellamy exhales. “Nah, think I’m just gonna play video games. You wanna crash here till then?”

Clarke just yawns.

He laughs. “Yeah, I thought so.” He wriggles out of their embrace, leaving her curled up on the couch and missing his warmth.

“Don’t leave me,” she whines.

“Don’t be a baby, princess,” he calls from the bedroom, emerging with a spare blanket. He hands it to her and kisses her on the forehead. Despite herself, Clarke’s heart warms. “Make yourself at home.”

And watching him patter about the room as she relaxes into his hotel couch, she does.

* * *

 **Olympics Magazine** @olympicsmag| 10m

Griffin/Blake coach Marcus Kane @MarcusK denies relationship rumors – the two are ‘absolute best friends’ off the ice bit.ly/UhfhsKhr

 

 **Zoe Monroe** @zoeasdf | 8m

@olympicsmag @MarcusK OK BUT I don’t have LEGENDARY chemistry w my best friend and I don’t look at her like _this_ pic.twitter.com/JdjfHAskdl

* * *

The thing is, Clarke knows how she and Bellamy look to outsiders. It’s something that would otherwise be easy to chalk up to the heteronormativity of casual observers watching figure skating, but media has focused on her and Bellamy specifically in recent years – SkatingMag had called it ‘sizzling chemistry’, TIME had used the phrase ‘the Olympics’ most unconventional ‘love’ story’. Clarke’s mother would call it a few extra presentation points.

They’re intense on the ice and touchy off it. That’s really it – years and years of solid partnership reflecting itself in performance chemistry. They hold hands and cuddle and hug often outside the rink. It doesn’t matter that she wouldn’t mind if there was something more, but if she has to ignore every single photo of their physical affection towards each other and lie boldfaced ten thousand times to interviewers that she doesn’t want to kiss his face off in order to protect their partnership, then so be it.

The medal ceremony goes off without a hitch. Afterwards, the two of them get in a few more pictures with the other medalists and with the other skaters on Team USA, and she and Bellamy field a few more questions about their future plans – they’ll be at Worlds for sure, but everything past that is still up in the air.

“Yeah,” she tells the interviewer before she can think. “This season’s been crazy. I’m flying down to spend time with my mom, and Bell, of course, needs time with his sister.” She knocks her shoulder against his, and he chuckles.

“Yup, she knows me well all right,” he says, loping his arm around her shoulders easy as breathing, and she relaxes into his touch, her hand coming up to rest over his on her torso.

The reporter raises an eyebrow. “And surely, some time for development on the relationship front?” He looks knowingly between the two of them.

Uncharacteristically, Bellamy freezes.

Alarmed, Clarke glances at him – his eyebrows are raised and he’s blinking at the reporter, seemingly unable to answer, and Clarke steps in. “If the schedule allows it, who knows?” she says. “Personally, I’d be open to it–” her eyes widen, “– the prospect of dating.”

Bellamy regains his bearings and huffs a laugh. Clarke doesn’t dare look at him. “Yeah,” he says, but his voice is uneven in a way Clarke and very few people in the world can read. “Who knows?”

* * *

 **myleshoward** reblogged **shippingonice** (Follow)

[GIF: Bellamy Blake, surprised]

[GIF: Clarke Griffin: “If the schedule allows it, who knows? Personally…I’d be open to it…the prospect of dating.”]

[GIF: Bellamy Blake: “Yeah. Who knows?”]

 **(“Surely, some time for development on the relationship front?”),** linked to video source

_Am I overthinking this, or were they really awkward during this question? Almost like C was covering, or said she was open to it, and B didn’t disagree…?_

_\-------_

tagged: #griffinblake #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #secret dating? #definitely? #just sayin theyre both SINGLE NOW

* * *

 

The internet, predictably, loses its collective mind. Clarke is tempted to just outright delete Twitter and never open Tumblr again, but she and Bellamy haven’t spoken since getting back from the ceremony, and she misses him.

“It’s not the first time you guys were asked if you were dating,” Raven says matter-of-factly. “He was probably just thrown. I mean, you were given an Olympic freakin _gold medal_ like, fifteen minutes ago.”

“Yeah, but it was the first time he just froze like that,” Clarke protests over the phone, turning the medal over in her hand and running her fingers over the Olympic logo embellished at the side. It’s heavier than she thought it would be. In his room, she thinks, Bellamy is probably doing the same thing. “He’s normally the one talking over the situation.”

“Don’t overthink it, Clarke,” Raven says. “You guys are like, mega close. Don’t tell me the _Olympic ice dance champions_ have never once talked about potentially dating each other. Not with all that sex on skates.”

“Never.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “… _Really_?”

“The timing was always weird,” she says finally, the words falling out of her mouth. “I mean – we’ve been skating together since I was twelve and maybe a part of me’s been half in love with him ever since then, but it was so – the partnership, Junior Worlds, then the senior debut, competition after competition, and there was Lexa and Gina and…it just never came up. We worked well without ever having to talk about it,” she groans. “Part of me might’ve hoped – you know, it’s the Olympics. We’re at the top of the game. There should be time to consider it now, right?”

Raven is quiet over the phone. “You know,” she finally says. “You should tell him everything just you told me.”

* * *

  **Sterling** @silversterling | 6m

All I’m saying is if Blake doesn’t tell Griffin that he wants to spend the rest of his life with her I will stop believing in love.

 

 **Octavia Blake** @thebetterblake | 4m

@silversterling that’s my brother……….

 

 **Sterling** @silversterling | 1m

@thebetterblake Your brother and his partner are 2 of the most beautiful people at the Olympics can u really blame me…………..

* * *

 

It takes her most of the next day to work up the courage, and she spends most of it ignoring reactions on social media. Bellamy goes to watch the hockey games, she watches the ladies’ free skate practice in the morning and cheers for curling in the afternoon. It’s not until she sees a tweet from Miller that both of them are safely back at the hotel does she start pacing, then walks down the hall to his room.

Bellamy opens the door, grinning widely from the game. He’s still in his thick TEAM USA jacket and his hair is messy, and all of a sudden all Clarke can see is him at fifteen, surly and frowning in a too-big jacket, and she’s never felt so _sure_. “Hi, Clarke,” he says, giving her a quick hug. “If you’re here to talk about our exhibition gala routine I’m going to have to put you on hold until ladies’ singles is over.”

She has to smile at that, letting herself in and closing the door behind her. “Okay, yeah, we _do_ need to talk about that,” she concedes. “But that’s…not really why I’m here.”

Bellamy quiets and tenses. “It’s the interview, isn’t it? The one after the medal ceremony. I know I screwed up. Sorry.”

“No. I mean…”

He turns to look at her. He looks well and truly pained, and Clarke _aches_ to hug him like she would on any other day, the physical intimacy easy and expected.

But instead, she says, “Remember the Rostelecom Cup two years ago?” Lexa had broken up with her the day before their short, and they had flubbed something in the program as a result. They’d toughed it out to a bronze finish by the end and had to share an awkward winner’s photograph with Lexa and the rest of the singles and pairs medalists, but it’s still a time Clarke doesn’t like revisiting.

She can tell that the reminder bothers him, too, because he prickles and crosses his arms, frowning. “What’s this about?”

She takes a deep breath. “I broke up with Lexa Petrova, remember?”

At that, Bellamy drops all harshness, for which she’s ridiculously grateful. His frame relaxes and his face floods with concern. “What did she do?”

Clarke looks away. “I told you we broke up because the distance was tough and her coaches were hard on her, but…that wasn’t all of it.” She forces herself to look at him.

His jaw works. “What do you mean?” he asks, his voice low.

Clarke closes her eyes, then opens them again. “I didn’t tell you that she thought I had feelings for you.”

His eyes widen, but he stays where he is, his fists clenching. “And was she…” he pauses, looking conflicted. “Was she right? Do you…now…”

This is it, isn’t it?

“Bell,” she whispers. “Bell, you’re my best friend, and the best partner I could ask for, we’ve skated together for a decade. And speaking as that person, your partner, I just want you to know–” She inhales. He’s still looking at her. “I just want you to know that I wouldn’t mind if…there was something more, and if you don’t want it, I’m sorry, I just felt like I had to say it...”

Bellamy exhales loudly.

For a few beats it’s just the two of them staring at each other across a hotel room. Clarke can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

And then he says, “Oh thank god,” and closes the distance between them in three brief, elegant steps. His mouth is on hers before she can even think, warm and insistent, and she lets herself lean into the kiss, into the push and pull. Instantly a thousand objections rise up in her head – Mom, Marcus, Callie, Octavia, the rest of the team, the gold medal tenderly tucked into her room safe – but all of them are drowned out by the feeling she gets when kissing Bellamy – the feeling of putting on skates and flying across the rink, hair loose, movements uncoordinated, laughter ringing bright against the ceiling, the sort of pure, uncoordinated joy she started skating for.

When they break apart, he’s smiling, and she finds that so is she.  

“Clarke,” he whispers, pulling her close.

She clears her throat. “I was just – I’m scared, you know? What if _this_ screws up our rhythm, our partnership, what we have on the ice…” Her fingers tighten around his arm. “If it overshadows our skating, or screws up our perfect twizzles, or if we break up and can’t stand the sight of each other and can’t skate together? What if we know too much about each other and it just implodes?”

Bellamy looks at her, his gaze soft and his smile crooked. “And if it does work out?” he murmurs, one hand running through her hair. “It can go wrong, C. I know. But it can go so, so right, and I’m willing to try for that.”

 _Every skate is a story_ , Callie would remind them, encouraging them to pour emotion into every tilt of the head and twirl of the hand as Marcus would drill the choreography into their bodies. But a relationship isn’t a dance on the ice; it’s not a performative thing they’ll put on for the rest of the world. It’s something that’s been slowly growing between the two of them, an extension of the partnership they’ve been building with every warmup, every lift, every step sequence, every clasped pair of hands on a podium.

 _I couldn’t have gotten here without you_ , she thinks again, and everything falls into place.

_Together._

So Clarke threads her fingers between the hand that’s been running through her hair and looks up at him, smiling. She gets on her tiptoes and moves towards his face. “Marcus will kill us,” she says, her lip curling. “He released that statement and everything.”

“We’ll get a new coach,” he says. “Luna and Derrick’s. We’ll poach.”

She laughs, moving closer. “The internet will never let us live this down.”

He chuckles, letting their foreheads touch again. “Fuck that. No such thing as bad publicity.”

Clarke smiles at that, inching ever so slowly so that their lips are just centimeters away. She hears him inhale in anticipation. “Okay, but – the gala program.”

Bellamy laughs, shocked and delighted, and pushes her away. “Oh, come on!”

She beams, bright and happy. “Oh, you love me.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she knows they’re true, and somehow, she manages to smile even wider.

He pecks her forehead again, light and soft, before leaning down to capture her mouth in another kiss. “Yeah,” he says, grinning widely. “I do.”

* * *

 **Charlotte (six months to beijing!!)** @charichards | 18m

ok speaking as someone who’s been a g/b stan for YEARS they have been SO good to us recently I hope this means a proposal on ice

 

>  [[ **Figure Skating News** @fsnews | 35m
> 
> ROAD TO #Beijing2022| Griffin/Blake: How ice dancing’s top couple balance the sport and each other on and off the ice, and what we can expect from them in Beijing bit.ly/91djWhr]]

 

 **Figure Skating News** @fsnews | 6m

@charichards Honestly? Same.


End file.
